


lightning in a bottle

by kirargent



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Multi, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4522680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirargent/pseuds/kirargent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm hoping to be a cardiologist,” Kira tells him. That part isn't a lie. Sure, maybe she leaves out the part where first she has to convince her mother, who's a 900 year old creature straight out of Japanese mythology, that cardiology isn't too flashy a profession for someone who needs to keep a low profile if they're gonna, you know, live for 900+ years, and maybe she doesn't mention to this handsome stranger that there's no conference on cardiology in Nowhere-ville, Colorado: she's actually here tracking down some infamous were-creature called the Desert Wolf as a favor for an old friend in the mercenary business—but like, really. That's her own business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lightning in a bottle

**Author's Note:**

> [maliaskittles](http://maliaskittles.tumblr.com/) asked for scott/kira/malia + strangers meeting on a flight. i hope this is ok!!

Kira's neighbor's air vent is blowing a cold blast directly into her face.

She's thirty-two minutes into a two hour flight, and she let the last of her m&ms melt on her tongue before they took off, so now her mouth tastes dry and stale. Chewing her lip, she tucks her hair behind her ear; the chilly stream of air conditioning teases it right back into her face. She sighs.

Once she's arranged her face into an expression at once as apologetic and grateful as she can manage, she stretches up an arm to toggle off the blower, smiling meekly.

“Do you mind?” she asks the guy sitting next to her. He can't be much older than her own twenty years. His returning smile is youthful and kind; his dark eyes sparkle with it.

“Of course not,” he says.

Kira smiles, and twists the air vent closed, and folds her hands in her lap, letting her head fall back against her seat.

“Are you traveling on business?” her neighbor asks her.

Kira blinks a few times, considering her answer. “Yes,” she says, giving him a small smile. “Well, ish. I'm attending a conference.” The lie slides from her lips without a hitch.

“What kind of conference?” the guy asks. Kira shifts a little in her seat to look at him. _Is he after something?_ she wonders. _Or genuinely curious_? She thinks about turning her body away from him, but her neighbor to the right, upon taking her seat, had crushed Kira's hopes of getting to know her and her incredible legs by closing her eyes, clenching her jaw, and gripping her arm rests with vigor. Kira eyes the man's half smiling mouth, his gently raised eyebrows. Those pretty dark eyes are flanked by smile creases. _He's just curious_ , she decides. Then she adds, _and friendly_.

She looks at his mouth again.

 _And cute_.

“I'm hoping to be a cardiologist,” Kira tells him. That part isn't a lie. Sure, maybe she leaves out the part where first she has to convince her mother, who's a 900 year old creature straight out of Japanese mythology, that cardiology isn't too flashy a profession for someone who needs to keep a low profile if they're gonna, you know, live for 900+ years, and maybe she doesn't mention to this handsome stranger that there's no conference on cardiology in Nowhere-ville, Colorado: she's actually here tracking down some infamous were-creature called the Desert Wolf as a favor for an old friend in the mercenary business—but like, really. That's her own business.

“Cardiology,” the guy says, eyebrows lifting. “Wow.”

Kira ducks her head, warmth cresting in her chest. “I don't know.” She folds her arms, changing the subject. “Anyway, what about you? Business or pleasure?”

“Oh.” His eyes dart away from her for just a split second before they return, along with a smile that looks like he wears it as often as his favorite jeans. “Just—visiting a friend.”

“Oh,” Kira says. “Cool.” Which is a stupid response, but social interaction has never exactly been her forte. They each smile again, holding each other's eyes for a moment, and then Kira pretends to look past him out the window even though there's nothing to see but puffy whiteness, and a few minutes later he pulls a slightly tattered novel from his backpack and thumbs it open. Kira taps her fingers on her thighs, glances to the girl on her other side (who's still clinging to the arm rests for dear life, still has really short shorts and _really_ nice legs, still looks like she might leap into attack-mode if disturbed), and settles down into her seat with a final sigh.

 

Kira doesn't remember falling asleep, but suddenly consciousness seizes her again. The plane bobs hard enough for her to feel a _swoop_ in her stomach. She's never been prone to motion sickness, but she does have a wicked ache in her neck; she blinks open her eyes, squinting a little, and unbends her screeching neck slowly. In the next moment, she realizes that it may not have been the turbulence that woke her.

There's a strange grating, scraping sound. It's dull, like someone dragging a knife against a plastic cutting board. Frowning, Kira looks to her right.

The woman beside her is still clinging to the arm rest, but— _oh, crap_ , Kira thinks—now her fingers are tipped with long, sharp claws that carve furrows when she drags them down the gray plastic. She's breathing hard enough for Kira to see her chest rising and falling. Strands of her short blond-brown hair cling to her temples, which shine with the beginnings of sweat. Her eyes are squeezed closed.

 _Crap_ , Kira thinks again. _What the hell am I supposed to do?_

She clears her throat. Shifts in her seat as noisily as she can.

The guy on her left looks up from his book, questioning. Kira gives him a smile, but it feels strained. He looks past her, and Kira's heart leaps to her throat—crap! What if he sees the girl's claws? How is she gonna explain this?—but his eyes slide back to his book without any alarm.

Wild-hearted, Kira sits back in her seat, back stiff. How could this happen? She's on a tiny plane headed into the middle of nowhere, and there's a freaking werewolf sitting next to her? No way. This can't be happening.

She steals a tiny look to her right again.

The claws look very real.

They also look very sharp.

Not for the first time, Kira wishes that being a kitsune came with the same perks as lycanthropy—being able to smell the true nature of the strangers around her instead of being shocked mid-flight would come in handy.

A thought catches hold at the base of her mind. First it's quiet, then urgent. She feels her shoulders stiffen.

Has her supernatural neighbor smelled the kitsune on her?

And then another thought, even worse: is she working for the Desert Wolf?

Kira doesn't know much about the Desert Wolf, just that Braeden, the toughest chick Kira knows, says she's scary as hell. So like, _not_ someone Kira wants to have sending minions after her. _Fuck_.

She glances to her left again, at the cute guy who seems immersed in his book. Did he really not notice the claws? Maybe not. Kira thought he looked right at them, but maybe she was wrong.

 _Okay_ , she thinks. _What the hell do I do?_ She now wishes she hadn't given up on brainstorming a way to smuggle her katana-belt past airport security.

She's thousands of feet in the air without a way of contacting Braeden and with nothing but an m&ms wrapper to defend herself from the Desert Wolf's hench-woman sitting next to her looking like she's seconds from clawing open her seat belt and slicing her way through the plane, and if the cute human dude next to her looks up again and sees Wolf Chick's wolfishness, he's probably a goner.

Kira's life is totally awesome.

She takes a deep, deep breath. She lifts her hand and stretches out her fingers, hovering a few inches from her neighbor's arm. Terror pounds in her veins. (She has to pause a moment to stop her panic from blowing out all the lightbulbs in the plane.)

Heart thudding in her throat, she curls her fingers around the girl's wrist.

Blue eyes snap open. (Blue, not yellow. Not unexpected, but still, _crap_. How many people has this girl killed, Kira wonders?) Her sharp stare sends jags of icy fear down Kira's spine.

“Hey,” Kira says quickly. _Talk before she kills you!_ “Could you just—put the claws away in public? We don't need to freak anyone out.” _I mean, other than myself_ , she adds silently. _I'm pretty freaked out_.

The girl stares at her, eyes narrowed. Her chest rises and falls quickly. Then she grates out, “I really fucking hate airplanes.” Dropping her head back against the seat, she digs her claws into the padded cushion beside Kira's right thigh.

Kira jumps and lets go of the girl's arm, swallowing a yelp. She casts a worried look to the reading boy on her other side. Terrifying Wolf-Girl notices, gives an eyeroll even as a bump of the plane makes her upper lip raise in a half snarl.

“Stop looking to the werewolf for help,” she says lazily, closing her eyes again. Kira's heart slams in her chest. She feels her eyes bug. _Werewolf_? “He's the least discreet stalker I've ever had, but he's not stupid. He's not gonna mess with a kitsune before he knows what's going on.”

“You knew I was tailing you?” Book abandoned in his lap, the guy to Kira's left is leaning forward, eyes wide.

The girl snorts. “You're not exactly inconspicuous, True Alpha Scott McCall.”

Kira raises her eyebrows.

Scott says, slowly, “Oh.”

Kira's heard her mother say the name Scott McCall before, but Braeden never mentioned that the first True Alpha in a hundred years was tracking the Desert Wolf.

“So...” Kira says, because things are starting to feel like they're moving very fast and she's being left behind, “just—to get this straight. I'm sitting on a plane next to _two_ werewolves? Not just one?”

“Just one,” the girl says. She flashes Kira a sharp-toothed grin. “You've got a coyote on your right.”

Kira moves her mouth as if she's making words, but no sentences form. “Um,” she says finally. She looks back and forth between her neighbors. Scott is watching the coyote warily, his worn paperback forgotten between his thighs. The coyote alternates between staring him down, eyeing Kira like she's not quite sure how much threat a kitsune poses, and baring her teeth at the seat-back in front of her with each especially bad swoop of turbulence.

A rush of dizziness pours over Kira. She's seized with a sudden awareness that what she most wants right now is to _get out of here_. She's not sure where she's gonna go, seeing as she's, you know, locked in a moving aircraft, but her skin tingles with antsy electricity, and she unbuckles her seatbelt and pushes herself up before she can stop to think about it.

Maybe she can find an empty seat near the back of the plane, or hide out on the toilet until they land. Then she just has to sneak past these were-creatures, find the Desert Wolf, stay alive, report back to Braeden, convince her paranoid mom to let her follow her dreams, and she'll be off to med school. Her heart flops jerkily in her chest.

Claw-tipped fingers latch around her forearm.

“Oh, no,” the coyote says. Her grin is stunning, but there's a sharp edge underneath it that's terrifying. Kira is reminded of the bright, pretty colors of poisonous berries.

Kira forces a smile. “Bathroom,” she says, gesturing. “Be back in a sec.”

“Hell no.” The plane bobs. Needle-sharp claws pierce Kira's skin. “You're gonna sit down, we're gonna wait until this—” the plane dips again “— _fucking_ plane lands, and then all three of us are gonna find somewhere nice and quiet where we can... talk.” Another smile curls her mouth. Kira's heart pretty much screeches to a stop.

 _I_ _'m about to die_ , she thinks. “I'm about to die,” she says out loud. “The freaking Desert Wolf sent a minion to kill me and I ogled the minion's legs and now I'm about to die.”

The coyote makes a face at her. “What?”

Scott says, “You mean Malia?”

Kira looks from one of them to the other, her mouth a little open. “I,” she says. “Is Malia—” she gestures at the coyote, who's still got her forearm in a clawy death-grip, “her?”

“Malia Tate,” Scott tells her. Kira stares at him. “Previously Malia Hale?” he offers. “Desert Wolf's long-lost daughter?”

Slowly, Kira turns back to Malia. “So... the Desert Wolf didn't send you to kill me?”

Malia rolls her eyes and finally releases Kira's arm. “Definitely not. I've been looking for my mom as long as you have.”

“Oh,” Kira says, rubbing at her wrist. She focuses on the dull, achy pain where Malia's claws dug in, and after a moment she feels her skin start to seal up over the claw-shaped puncture wounds. “Um,” she continues, “sorry about... your mom.”

“Sorry about what?” Malia asks. “My mom's a badass.”

Kira opens her mouth. “Oh,” she says. Her breath is still coming panicky-short. And now she's just pissed off this terrifying were-coyote of unclear alliance. Awesome.

A sudden grin splits Malia's face. Her supernaturally long incisors are away, but the smile somehow still seems to hold too many teeth. “I'm just fucking with you,” she says, relaxing back into her seat. “I know my mom's an asshole.”

For once in her life, Kira keeps her mouth shut instead of babbling, if only because she has no freaking clue what to say.

“Hey.” Kira looks gratefully to Scott. “Ignore her. She's...”

“Blunt?” Malia suggests, staring forward and sounding bored. “Abrasive? Bad with social cues?”

Scott gives Kira a strained smile. “That.”

“Oh, no, it's fine,” Kira says. She smiles back at him.

Then she lets the smile drop. “Um... so you've been following Malia, and she's been following the Desert Wolf?”

“That's the gist of it,” Scott says.

“ _Hhhhhhrgh_ ,” Malia says, groaning through her teeth and dragging her claws against the arm rests as the plane shudders.

“I want to find her before she kills again,” Scott continues.

“Oh, me too!” Kira says. “I mean, I'm gonna find her, and then I'm gonna call my friend, and then she's gonna call _her_ friends, and then they're gonna take her somewhere where she can't keep hurting people.” She realizes she's smiling maybe too wide. And maybe rambling. Just a little. She's relieved to be alive, okay? And the girl with the incredible legs is talking to her, and Scott has a nice smile.

“Yeah,” Malia says, lifting one hand from the shredded arm rest. “I mean, I wanna ask her some questions first, like why the fuck she shot up my other mom's car and killed my sister and nearly killed me—but then, yeah, all of that—” she waves her hand lazily “—stopping her from hurting people stuff.”

“Cool,” Kira says, because she is totally awesome at knowing what to say in delicate moments.

Malia's lips twitch with an almost smile. “Yeah. Anyway, look: if you two dumbasses haven't scared her off already and blown my shot, I get first dibs on my mom, okay? I get to ask her my questions before you do anything.” She says it like that's just how it is, this is not up for debate, but her eyes search Kira's with a desperation only thinly veiled.

Kira hesitates only a beat before she says, “Of course.” It's not like she's all too excited to meet the Desert Wolf, anyway. And hey, mom issues? She totally gets it.

Also, Malia is kind of terrifying, and Kira doesn't really want to piss her off.

“Thanks,” Malia says curtly. The plane shivers again, and so does Malia, and that's kind of the end of the conversation.

Scott does give her a couple more meek smiles, though. His smile is much, much gentler than Malia's. Kira finds that she rather likes them both.

 

They don't, like, sit and talk and flesh out all the details of what they plan to do next, which leaves Kira a little anxious the rest of the plane ride. Malia doesn't seem like the type to share her plans willingly (or necessarily like the type to plan ahead at all) and Scott goes back to reading his book like he's perfectly content to play it by ear. Which is great for them and all, but isn't it gonna be awkward when they deplane? Are all three of them supposed to head off together now, maybe share a rental car? Or will Malia give Kira a totally weirded-out look if she tries to tag along?

The plane lands (a little jerkily, but not roughly enough that Kira feels Malia's unfailing stream of under-breath obscenities is warranted), and Kira swings her colorful elephant-print backpack onto her shoulders and follows the aisle to the exit with Malia ahead of her and Scott behind, and then they enter the airport and Malia stops in her tracks, says, “Aw, crap,” and Kira realizes she's got bigger things to worry about than whether or not it'll be awkward if she mistakenly tries to team up with Scott and Malia.

Bigger things like the four tall, thickset men standing at the edge of the gate's seating area, wearing grim expressions and all black.

Scott tips his chin up, nose in the air.

“Wolves?” Kira murmurs, not taking her eyes off the strange men.

Scott gives a slight nod.

 _Crap_ , Kira thinks. Beside her, Malia releases a rumbly growl from low in her throat and bends her knees. _Crap!_ Kira thinks again.

Kira grabs for Malia's arm to stop her from flinging herself headfirst into a fight. “Wait,” she whispers.

“For what? For them to kill us?” Malia demands. She tugs at Kira's grip. “No thanks.”

“Just trust me,” Kira pleads. Malia narrows her eyes.

“You have a plan?” Scott asks, sounding hopeful. Where Malia looks suspicious, he looks fully ready to trust Kira. Kira's chest feels warm.

“Sort of,” she says. “Come on.”

Kira a couple strides in the lead, they set off down the airport hallways. Indiscernible announcements from the loudspeakers echo from the whitewashed walls and tiled floors; all around them are the sounds of raised voices, the grumble of rolling suitcases, the quick, rhythmic beats of shoes. Always in the background are four imposing figures trailing a little behind them, sharp black cutouts against the white walls and gray carpeting of the airport gates.

“They're definitely following us,” Malia says lowly, catching up to Kira.

“I know,” Kira says. She skims the signs pointing to BAGGAGE CLAIM and CAR RENTALS. “Are you renting a car?”

Malia shrugs. “I was gonna steal one.”

Kira looks at her, not slowing her pace. She can't tell if Malia's joking. “Um,” she says. She sees an arrow pointing right for PARKING GARAGE and turns down the hall, glancing for Scott behind her.

He joins them, and they walk abreast out of security. They follow another sign for the parking garage. Kira's eyes pass over the escalators and fix on an elevator bank. She flexes her fingers.

“Your mom's guys,” Kira says to Malia in a low voice as they speed walk for the elevators, “do you think they'd hurt innocent people?”

Another shrug. “If they got in the way,” she says easily.

Kira winces. “But not otherwise?”

With unnerving apathy, Malia says, “I have no clue.”

Kira blows out a worried breath. _There's nothing else to do_ , she thinks helplessly. She smiles at a woman in a business suit as she steps onto the elevator.

“Are you sure about this?” Scott whispers, just as Malia hisses, “Are you crazy?”

“ _Trust me_ ,” Kira snaps. She suspects Malia's more startled into silence than she is willing to trust Kira, but that's fine. They file into the elevator along with two strangers, watching the Desert Wolf's henchmen approach. Kira steps behind Scott and Malia.

A sharp-suited man joins them. The henchmen keep coming. Kira thinks their ears look a little too long, their brows a little too lowered, but maybe she's imagining it. A teenager with a hoodie and headphones slips into the elevator, and the doors slide closed.

“What good did that do?” Malia whispers. “You bought us, what, thirty seconds?”

The digital screen in the elevator tells Kira they're on the fourth floor. She pushes the button for 3, watches it light up.

“I need you to tell me when they get on an elevator,” she tells Scott.

He blinks at her.

“Can you do that?” she presses.

“I—yeah, I should be able to,” he says, frowning.

“Good,” she says, grabbing him and Malia each by an arm and pulling them with her out of the elevator.

Malia cocks her head to the side, listening. “They're already on,” she says. “Whatever your plan is—”

Kira doesn't wait to let Malia berate her some more. Taking a breath, she throws out her arms, closes her eyes, and lets go of all the quivery panic that's been building up in her veins. She hears a pop, a shatter. There's a flash in front of her eyelids. She opens her eyes in time to see a cascade of sparks burst from the light overhead.

She hears the elevators grind to a stop.

She grins, lowering her hands.

Malia is staring at her. Kira shifts her weight. “Um,” she says, grin fading. “They'll have back up generators, but they probably won't waste the power on the elevators. We should keep moving, though, because—”

“That was hot,” Malia says.

“Um,” Kira says. Her voice goes a little high and squeakish. “What?”

Malia grins her sharp grin. “Scott thought so too.” She glances at him. “Or did something else make your pulse jump just then?”

“I—” Scott says. “Um. No, it was Kira.” He ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck, smiling apologetically. Malia turns her grin back to Kira, who feels a little lightheaded again.

“Should we maybe... keep running from the evil henchmen?” Kira suggests weakly.

Malia snorts. “Probably. But we're gonna talk this out once we're done with all the crazy. Don't think I don't hear your heart rate, kitsune.”

 _O_ _h_ , Kira thinks. _Oh, boy._

**Author's Note:**

> also [on tumblr](http://kirargent.tumblr.com/post/126127155731/lightning-in-a-bottle-36k-maliaskittles-asked)


End file.
